


young and angry (with every right to be)

by Simpliicity



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And their music is so Ben and Rey, F/M, Foster Siblings Rey & Finn, Hardcore Music, It's not explicitly mentioned BUT THEY ARE, Just let me have my trash, Listen I just really like Stick To Your Guns, Minor Armitage Hux/Phasma, Minor Poe Dameron/Finn, Protective Ben Solo, Small Towns, They're both 18, blood tw, brief mentions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22906504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simpliicity/pseuds/Simpliicity
Summary: Small-town hardcore venue The Underground is more than just an old movie theater turned concert hall - it's a place for wayward Andor-Erso High School students to let off some steam.Some do that in different ways than others.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	young and angry (with every right to be)

**Author's Note:**

> Literally an excuse for me to write Ben punching someone in the middle of a mosh pit for accidentally hitting Rey.
> 
> This is a one-shot, but I could definitely be considered to write what comes after if someone wants it. I'm weak for high school AUs, okay?

The old movie-theater-turned-concert hall in the middle of town was a lot of things—a place for those on the outskirts of society, a place for music and art and theater and other things that might not have the best budgets in the small town’s only public school, a cheap place to hang out late at night without worrying about the police ticketing high-school kids for loitering—but it was _not_ well-ventilated.

This is a discovery Rey makes firsthand as she sprawls over one of the secondhand couches in the side room of The Underground, her head tipped back over its sturdy arm as she tries to gather her hair into an even higher bun. She’s already given up on looking cute, the legs of her denim overalls cut off, discarded in the already-overflowing trash can in the women’s bathroom, and cuffed around her upper thigh; the tank top she’d put on underneath rolled up with the edges tucked under her sports bra; and the half-up-half-down do she’d half-heartedly attempted in Finn’s bathroom before they’d left giving way for something of more convenience. At least she hadn’t bothered with makeup—she’d have already sweated it off by now.

If she wasn’t so self-conscious about the way her feet surely smelled, she would have ditched her slip-on sneakers, too, but she can’t do that to Finn and Poe.

It’s the two of them that have dragged her to The Underground. The foster home she and Finn share doesn’t offer much in the way of privacy, and Poe’s hovering parents _might_ be okay with his and Finn’s relationship if they told them, but they don’t know because they haven’t told _anyone_ , though Rey notices they’re a bit more open with each other here. At the very least, they aren’t pointedly looking away from one another or doing everything in their power to make sure their legs aren’t touching—as a matter of fact, she notices they’re only centimeters away, even in the all-encompassing heat.

Besides, it’s not like it would be much better at home, she knows; the foster _home_ she and Finn share can barely be called that. Air conditioning might as well be a dirty word for how little it worked, and the fan that gave her some respite while their foster father was out at work during the day he stole back as soon as he returned, so while The Underground’s choice in music wasn’t one she particularly shared, at least it kept her out of the house until a guaranteed eleven-o-clock—combined with the Taco Bell run afterwards, it was unlikely she’d be back to the house until the air had cooled to the point of allowing her _some_ restless sleep.

Even if she doesn’t much care for the slightly-muffled sounds of heavy music blasting from the room next to them, The Underground—for barely-maintained high-school-student hangouts—isn’t bad. An old two-screen movie theater, it had been hollowed out (for the most part; the bathrooms and concession stands were kept, allowing traveling bands to sell their merchandise) with one room serving as the concert hall and the other as a chill spot. Various thrift-store and garage-sale furniture was strewn about, an old Nintendo in front of a box TV near the back and a foosball table on the other side, and the back exit was propped open to allow the early-dusk air to give the briefest of respite to the ten-odd kids who weren’t there for the music. It was in environments like this that Finn and Poe felt comfortable to be themselves—Poe more so, considering his position on the football team and his parents’ prominent names, and Finn happy to do whatever makes Poe happy—and Rey couldn’t help but smile despite her discomfort as their hands met discreetly between the couch cushions.

“Hey, have you ever heard of this band that’s playing tonight?” she asks, taking another sip from the water bottle she’d filled from the drinking fountain that had long since warmed. She scrunches her nose up in disgust, but keeps drinking anyway.

Poe shrugs. “I’ve heard of ‘em. Not really my type, but they draw a decent crowd.”

“We’re just lucky we were able to get tickets,” Finn remarks. “Thanks, by the way,” he says, nudging Poe’s shoulder with his own.

“Hey, you did all the work,” Poe laughs. “They’re always willing to give out a few tickets if you help load in. Don’t forget, though, you’re gonna have to help them load _out_ , too.”

Finn groans, but nods; he’d earned his and Poe’s tickets by helping the band, and had offered Rey one, too. She’s thankful, of course, but she can’t help but feel like an afterthought, especially as the two edge closer to one another on the loveseat.

Standing abruptly, Rey gets curious looks from the two boys as she bends to pick up her water bottle. “I think I’m gonna go check out the band,” she muses, causing Finn’s frown to deepen.

“Are you sure? They’re, uh… a little intense,” he warns, wincing at the sound of a guitar riff starting in the next room, followed by rowdy shouts. “I can come with you, if you want?”

“Nah,” Rey brushes him off, already stepping off the small raised platform that she thinks used to be a cluster of seats, grabbing the railing and twirling towards the exit into the lobby. “I’ll see you at home, ‘kay? Don’t pull a muscle, we’ve gotta work tomorrow.” It’s a gentle reminder, and she does her best not to sound nagging—their foster father will be expecting their help hauling scrap once the sun comes up, and even though she wants Finn to have a good night, she _really_ doesn’t want to do all the work herself.

“Text me when you’re home safe,” he calls from his spot on the couch, but Rey knows she’s soon forgotten as she enters the lobby, pretending to study the T-shirts on the wall before refilling her water bottle— _still warm_ , she groans, but at least it’s a little cooler—and ducking into the next room over.

Noise assaults her as she pulls the heavy double-door open, allowing it to swing shut as soon as she’s entered lest the lights from the lobby distract from the darkened room. No one is on stage yet, so she figures it must have been a sound check that she heard moments before, and she takes a place along the back wall as she studies the crowd. There are a few people she recognizes in the brief flashes of light that come from overhead—a guy from her history class with red hair, and a tall woman that stopped her from being _annihilated_ in dodgeball when she’d transferred in her first day, and she gets a smirk and a nod from the latter—but it’s not them that draw her eyes when a backing track that must be the band’s introduction starts.

It’s _him_.

Towering above the rest of the crowd, the black, messy waves and the imposing form identify him before he turns his face backwards, but even if he hadn’t, she’d know him anywhere. _Ben Solo_.

When she and Finn had transferred in, her foster brother immediately falling in with Poe’s crowd after it became evident that he didn’t have the heavy clothing required for the Northeastern winters and Poe had lent him his letterman jacket on his first day, she’d been warned about him. ‘He’s psycho,’ said one person. ‘Knocked the teeth out of a senior on his first day of freshman year.’ Another would butt in, ‘No, he sent him to the _hospital_.’

‘I heard the kid _died_.’

Of course, Poe, his parents being close friends with the Organa-Solos, had reassured her that none of it was true—well, save the fight, but it had been more of a tussle than anything, or so he says. No matter what version of the story she heard, one thing rang true—people were _afraid_ of Ben, and as he scowls toward the crowd amongst the last chords of the haunting introduction, she can see why.

The band takes the stage, and the crowd explodes into movement.

Rey is glad she has chosen to stay out of the way, and she presses herself against one of the back walls, but her eyes aren’t on the band—they’re on _him_.

_I know you, because you’re just like me_

_Always questioning every single thing_

_Never giving up without a fight_

_Because for you, your resistance is a way of life_

The vocalist paces from side to side on the small stage, screaming out at the crowd that has gathered; people clump against the stage and along the walls, with others throwing themselves around in what looks like painful motions to Rey in between, but he doesn’t join them. He stands towards the back of the throes, where fast, frenzied movement meets those that are trying to get a glimpse of the band, with one arm out, bent at the elbow with a strong forearm towards the crowd.

_Young and angry, with every right to be_

_Bent but not broken, hanging on by a thread_

_Looked past by most, looked down on by all_

_We don’t need them, it’s forever us against them all_

He’s _blocking_ them.

Curiosity gets the best of her, and she pushes off from the wall in between songs, tucking herself through the crowd until she’s directly behind him. From here, she can see as the next song begins what he’s doing—he’s stopping people from hitting those who don’t want to be hit, and the realization tugs at her in a way she doesn’t quite understand. The energy of the crowd rages around her, but she feels safe—

Until an errant backhand punch breaks through Ben’s guard, underneath his arm, and socks her in the face.

Rey goes down hard, and panic shoots through her—people are stomping and pushing and running around her, and she could get _trampled_. A brutal vision of her broken body flashes through her mind, and just as tears gather at the corners of her eyes, she’s lifted from the floor and propelled backwards, a flash of Ben’s hand letting go of hers before he ducks back into the crowd the only thing to tell her who was the one to set her upright.

_Whoa-oh-oh, whoa-oh-oh_

_Forever us against them all_

She pats at her face, and when she sees—and tastes—no blood, she tries to find him to thank him, even if only with her eyes, but she’s unable to find him in the brief reprieve between songs.

She takes a step back, slightly elevated by the slope of the old movie-theater style floor, and stands on her tiptoes with her heels against the wall, attempting to sight him out so she can run in and thank him during the next break, but when she finally points him out, the music around her slows and her heart races in anticipation. Even though she isn’t familiar with the style of music, it’s obvious to her what’s about to happen, and she finds her eyes glued to him as the crowd bursts into a violent—but seemingly coordinated—pile of bodies.

Ben holds his own, and he does it well, but he’s looking around frantically as he shifts, and for a moment, she thinks he might be looking for _her_. That was silly, she knew—why would he _want_ to see her during something like this? —but satisfaction doesn’t wash over his face when he meets her eyes. It comes moments later, when his head snaps toward another senior—Rey doesn’t know his name, but she thinks he’s on the football team with Poe—and he rushes towards him, his fist colliding with the boy’s cheek. A shrug and a smirk follow, and Rey knows that he’s done it on purpose—she meets Ben’s eyes as he looks up just after, and gives him a small nod.

Whether it’s a thanks or an approval, she doesn’t know, but he takes it the way he wants to and finishes the song out in a similar fashion. It takes all she has not to trip the boy as he stumbles out towards the back, blood smeared on his face and shirt with the school’s football logo torn.

She takes her chance and dashes in, ducking through the crowd until she’s by his side again. “Thanks,” she yells over the crowd around them, and his eyes widen briefly before he nods, setting his jaw. The opening chords of the next song come on, and before she knows it, she’s back where she started, resting safely at the top of the slope near the back door and he’s gone, the path he’d taken back to the center of the room closing quickly as the whole room seems to liven.

_This is more than a pulse beneath my wrist or a beat beneath my ribs_

_This is something that can’t be given away_

_Because what’s life for some is not right for some_

_But either way we can overcome_

When her eyes find him again, he’s stripped off his T-shirt, his torso bare, the garment loosely looped through one belt hoop.

It’s hard not to watch him—for various reasons, she tells herself, not _just_ because her mind is overcome with the thought of following his beads of sweat with her tongue—with how his brutishness contrasts with the grace of movement that comes with being so violent in such a small space yet never purposely hurting anyone—besides the kid that had punched her, she realizes; he’s the only one that’s found himself on the wrong end of Ben’s fist besides one other who receives an apologetic smile and a quick clap on the back instead of more punches—but she doesn’t find herself downright _fascinated_ until the whole room starts to shout along with the vocalist.

_Rest assured that with a heart that’s pure_

_We’ll be victorious and not let our hate get the best of us_

The vocalist says it first, then the crowd repeats it, and Rey can see him—the usually stoic, unmoved Ben Solo _screaming_ these words with all he’s worth—and it feels like she truly _sees_ him, but it’s a thought she doesn’t have time to ponder long on before the vocalist growls

_MOVE_

And the room obeys.

The rest of the show is a flurry, with Rey alternating between ducking out to refill her water that she finds herself chugging at a rapid pace and watching Ben when she can find him, until the vocalist announces that it’s their last song, and Rey surges back towards the crowd. If nothing else, she wants to experience this _once_ , and, she figures—what better time to do it than when she clearly has someone looking out for her?

_Picture this, you’re just a kid_

_They never noticed you ‘cause no one ever did_

_You don’t know why, but you don’t mind_

_Your life already gives you a hard time_

_They saw you, your whole life, less like an underdog, more like garbage_

_Do they know what it’s like to spend every single day with a back like a target?_

It’s easier to stay upright now that she knows what to look for, and she fares just fine being shoved around; she grew up roughhousing and _fighting_ for her place, so to do so amongst people who don’t _really_ wish her ill isn’t too bad. She finds she rather likes it, to the point that when the chorus comes and she finds herself right next to Ben, she’s yelling right along with him, and the look of—she can’t tell what it is, but it’s _pride_ —he gives her is enough to make her yell ten times louder.

_Trust me, I know when you look at me you see nobody at all_

_For the first time, I can say that I’m proud to be nobody at all_

_We’ll never be, we’ll never see, never believe the fucking lies they tell themselves_

A brief pit breaks out around them after the first chorus, and Ben looks at her before throwing himself back into it. The shirt he’d looped through his belt dropped to the ground, and before Rey can talk sense into herself, she dips down to snatch it up before retreating again.

_Proud to be nobody_

_We never needed any of you anyway_

“That’s it, goodnight!” comes from the vocalist, and Rey can’t believe it, but she’s actually disappointed. There isn’t time to dwell on it, though, as the crowd begins to clear out and she realizes she’s clutching his shirt like a lifeline. Using both her heightened position and his considerable stature, he’s easy to pick out in the filtering crowd, and she holds his shirt out in front of her as she approaches him, like he’s a wounded animal she’s offering a treat. He’s flanked on both sides by the redhead and the tall blonde, and they all regard her with curiosity as she reaches the garment out to him.

Wordlessly, he takes it and uses it to wipe sweat and a bit of blood near his nose from his face, tucking it into the pocket of his black jeans now that he has more time to arrange it. “Thanks,” he grunts, his voice hoarse.

“No problem,” she returns with a shy smile, and that’s all they say for a moment.

“Hey, we’ll catch you later, okay, Ben?” the tall woman pipes up, and she thinks she can see him tense, but the gesture of discomfort is ignored by his friends. “Still on at Hux’s for after?”

He manages a nod, and that’s it for their crowd—they’re almost the last still in the concert hall, the band long since deserted, those that have been hired to tear down the instruments—and Rey notices that Finn is suspiciously missing—starting to buzz to and fro, packing up cords. “So, um—” she starts, just as he stutters out a “Hey, uh—”

He laughs breathlessly, and she can’t help but think it’s the most melodious thing she’s heard all night.

“My, uh, my friends are throwing this afterparty thing,” he offers when she makes no move to cut him off again. His face is red, but she chalks it up to the exertion—he can feel the heat on his face, and it has nothing to do with the concert _or_ the heat of the summer evening. “You have plans tonight?”

Rey pretends to pause, making him shift from one foot to the other—she can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to come up with how to backtrack on the offer, and just when he opens his mouth, she shakes her head.

It calms him, but only slightly; she can see that his muscles—which she’s trying _hard_ not to blatantly stare at—are corded with tension, and considering he’d spent the last forty-five minutes taking out physical tension on the unfortunate souls in between him and his fists. “Want to?”

She takes his hand to lead him from the concert hall, but drops it as soon as she touches it, scrunching her nose up. “Only if you go wash your hands first,” she agrees, and he grins crookedly.

He texts Hux from the men’s bathroom after he’s done his best to wash his hands and his face, water streaming down his torso from him dunking his head under the faucet.

_Put a towel in the downstairs bathroom for me. I gotta clean up before people realize they can go into the basement._

Rey takes time of her own in the womens', her hair back into the half-up-half-down do she'd attempted earlier in the night, her tanktop rolled back down—then up, then down again—and she borrows a bit of body spray from a girl with pink hair. Before she steps out, she texts Finn:

_Cover for me when you get home? I'll explain tomorrow._


End file.
